The Tiger
by V.W. Norton
Summary: The Young Gangster wants a motorbike. His sister doesn't want him to have one. (No real relation to the movie, more an extrapolation from my other story: "All I Ever Wanted")
1. Love at First Sight

**Hello everyone. I'm hoping you've read my story "All I've Ever Wanted" but if you haven't here's the 411: Young Gangster has a name is my world - Archer Sloane. He is one of seven children: Alexander, Arthur, Anthony, Archer, Ashley, Annie, and Andrew. They are a lawyer, banker, Scotland Yard tech, gangster, model, singer and photographer, respectively. Annie is blind and Archer has no people skills, but they both share a flat and Andrew often spends the weekend:**

**This is a story about the Sloane family, not connected really at all to the movie. Archer wants to buy a motorbike but he doesn't have enough money, so he starts a "motorbike fund". Annie doesn't want him to buy the bike and tries to sabotage his plans.**

**Oh! And by the way, Archer Sloane is 95% Paul Bettany's and 5% mine whereas the rest of the Sloanes are 100% mine, mine, mine!! :)**

**Enjoy!!!!**

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Archer opened the door to his flat, shoving his shoulder against the edge to force it past the two inch maximum. The grocery bags whacked him in the back of the knee as he slid into the room and he eagerly dropped them on the floor, kicking the rolling coffee can out of his way as he turned back to resume battle with the door. Three minutes and one bruised finger later, he hauled the groceries down the short hallway to the kitchen.

He put the milk, bacon, and eggs in the fridge, the ice cream and pork chops in the freezer, and the coffee, the chocolate-chip cookies, and the fruit loops in the pantry. Then, wadding up the bags and throwing them into the garbage bin, he went through to the living room and flopped on the couch. Archer slid off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie, and undid his cuff links, rolling up his sleeves. He realized, after he'd gotten all comfortable, that he'd forgotten to bring a bottle of beer in with him - so, grumbling to himself, he stiffly got up and slouched his way over to the pantry and the bottle opener. Returning to the couch with his bottle of Newcastle Brown, Archer grabbed the nearest copy of _Motor Cycle Magazine_. A fly hovered over the end table, Archer's hand came down, leaving a small black smudge on the tan wood.

A second blond head peeked around the door frame leading into the kitchen, "Archer, is that you thudding around?"

"Yes, Annie, it's me! Who else would it be?"

She giggled, "Oh, I don't know... Andrew... Ashley... Anthony... Maxie King... you never know..."

"Maxie King? God help us. I wouldn't let him in here for anything, he'd stink up the place with that camel hair coat of his."

"Be charitable, Archer," she laughed, "he's not _that_ bad."

"You're absolutely right... He's ten times worse."

She smiled and shook her head, curling up on the couch next to him. "What are you reading?"

"Motor bike rag."

"What is it with you and motor bikes?"

"They're manly. And fast. What's not to like?" He turned to look at her.

"Oh, perhaps the fact that they're really, really, REALLY, dangerous? That could be a negative aspect of motor bikes. Or that you have to ride through the rain and snow and everything. That's never fun."

"But that's what makes them manly."

"The fact that they're dangerous?"

"No, the fact that you have to weather the elements."

"No pun intended?"

"None whatsoever." He grinned. "I suppose that if I got one you'd have a heart attack?"

"A motor bike? That's out of the question Archer!"

"But Annie, it would be fun, I could take you for rides around London, in the summer only, if you like. We could go to the country. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"No."

"But Annie..."

"No, Archer, it does not sound like fun, it sounds like a quick and easy way to commit suicide."

He sighed. "Well, if you're not going to be supportive, I'll just have to do it myself."

"What are you talking about?"

He flipped to a certain page in the magazine he was still holding, "Triumph Motorcycles, Tiger. Brand new model, going to get it painted jet black. It's an absolute beauty and I'm going to buy it first chance I get. It's fresh of the line. Only £8,249. "

"Only!?! ONLY? Are you insane? You don't have that kind of money. And don't you need equipment and stuff?"

"Yeah but that's cheaper, £100 for boots, £100 for the gloves, £325 for the jacket, £108 for the helmet. All adds up to... er... £8,882, or there about. Not that bad considering it's a brand new model."

"£8,882?"

"Yeah, I figure if I pull some of my paycheck every week I'll be able to get it in a couple of months. I could also keep a coin jar in the hall, you know, save up loose change. That'd make it go quicker. You could put your loose change in too. It's a worthy cause Annie, it really is. Annie... Annie?"

She just stared at him in horror.


	2. The war

**DAY ONE**

The next day a empty jar was put in the middle of the kitchen table with a sign reading "Motor Bike Fund" taped over the water-faded pickle label. Annie knocked it over when she put her plate of pancakes on the table. She picked it up, shook it, and listened to the rattle of change in the bottom. Sighing, she put the jar down and went to go eat her pancakes. Throughout the day, Annie kept picking up the jar, sighing, and putting it back down. This happened about seven and a half times. She then picked it up and marched off.

When Archer came home, the jar was under the dining room table.

**DAY TWO**

The jar went back on the kitchen table. Archer sat at the table eating his fruit loops and smiling at the prospect of getting a was a slightly larger pile of change then there had been the day before. Life was good. When Annie sat down to breakfast later, after Archer had gone off to work, she once again knocked the jar over. Annie grumbled and marched off with the jar. Life was not good.

When Archer came home, the jar was under the sink.

**DAY THREE**

The jar started out the day on the kitchen table. Archer put more change in and smiled. Annie knocked it over and grumbled.

When Archer came home, the jar was in the shower.

**DAY FOUR**

At breakfast, the jar was on the kitchen table. At lunch, the jar was under the kitchen table. At dinner, the jar was back on the table again.

**DAY FIVE**

Archer reached under the bed, laying flat on his stomach. He pulled out old socks, tennis shoes, ah... finally!!! Scowling, he stomped back to the kitchen and slammed the jar back down on the table.

"Archer is that you thudding around?"

"Shut up!"

"What?!?"

"I'm not talking to you!!"

"Oh. Okay."

**DAY SIX**

"ANNIE!!!!"

"Yes?"

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE JAR?!!?"

"I don't know..."

"THE *#& YOU DON'T!!!"

"It's just a jar, Archer."

"It is not JUST a JAR!!! It's the MOTOR BIKE FUND!!!!!"

"You shouldn't get a motor bike."

"ARRRAHHHHHHGHGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

**DAY SEVEN**

"That's it Annie. I've had it. It's done."

"You mean you're not getting the bike?"

"No. I'm moving to the nearest motel... indefinitely."

"Oh."

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

"Archer!!! You're back!!"

"Come downstairs Annie! I got something to show you."

"What is it?"

"Come on!!!"

...

"See!! Isn't she a beauty?"

"It's a bike... oh no.... Archer.... you didn't.... did you!!"

"I got a discount because the brother of one of the guys I play pool with sells these."

"YOU BOUGHT A MOTOR BIKE!!!!!!!!"

"Yeah, so?"

"I'M NEVER TALKING TO YOU AGAIN!!!"

"Oh. Okay."


	3. Victory

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Archer opened the door to his flat, shoving his shoulder against the edge to force it past the two inch maximum. Three minutes and one bruised finger later, he strolled down the short hallway, through the kitchen, and he went through to the living room and flopped on the couch. Archer slid off his jacket, loosened his tie, and undid his cuff links, rolling up his sleeves. He kicked off his shoes, the right, then the left - and they both whacked into the coffee table.

A second blond head peeked around the door frame leading into the kitchen, "Archer, is that you thudding around?"

"Yes, Annie, it's me!"

"Oh good! I was wondering if you could take me to the store, I need more pancake mix."

"Sure, just let me get the car keys."

"Ummm... Archer...?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we take the motorbike instead?"


End file.
